He watched from the spires. From below the glasswork floor. From the shadow under her left boot.
Eris Vale sat cross-legged beneath the marble arches of the western observatory, eyes half-lidded, unmoving.
To the untrained gaze, he was simply resting.
But in truth—he saw everything.
Not in the way others saw. Not through sight, nor illusion, nor magic.
His vision was not shared.
It was owned.
The Grand Gaze.
Born from the Watchman.
A solitary echo.
The others had their chains of fire and blades of air. He had truth.
And not the truth that was shown—but the truth that refused to be hidden.
Below him, the courtyards of House Ka'tarel's trial grounds thrummed with muted anticipation.
Ten heirs.
Ten shadows.
One secret phrase.
The first test of succession had begun.
"To find your shadow is to prove you can lead," Valari had once said.
"For only those who see clearly can wield power in this world of shifting veils."
But Eris did not need to be found. He had already chosen.
He knew the weight in Saphine's shoulders.
He knew the tremor in her hand when she hid it under her sleeve.
He knew the silence in her chest where an Echo had yet to take root.
She is not ready.
But she must be.
Far below, she wandered through the second atrium, a maze of ancient statues and echo-forged illusions. One false phrase, and a shadow would vanish from the trial — and so would the heir's chance.
Most heirs played it safe. Wait. Observe. Guess.
Saphine did none of those things.
She was actively hunting.
She doesn't know what to look for.
She's sharp, but she's still fighting in the light.
Eris exhaled softly.
His Flare Garment shimmered for a brief instant, bound beneath his academy robes — a barely-visible web of threads that bent around him like folded glass and silence.
It was a relic older than most remembered.
A gift not from the Peaks — but from what came before.
Only three others wore one in the known nations.
They do not know what it means that I have one.
They do not need to. Not yet.
Then something shifted.
A thin pulse in the air.
He blinked, and the Grand Gaze narrowed.
The colors twisted — not in front of his eyes, but within them. Like a vision crawling up from beneath reality.
Echo Distortion.
Here? Inside the trial zone?
His sight split.
Three layers unfolded like burning scrolls:
One, the visible world — the courtyards, the heirs.
Two, the Echo-thread — flickering pulses of power, emotions, resonance.
Three… the wrongness. A cold spiral of empty echo, moving like oil through the walls.
A Phenomenon.
Unbound Echo, feral. Wild resonance. That shouldn't be here.
And it was heading straight for Saphine.
She didn't feel it. Not yet.
But Eris did.
It slithered through the seams of space like a memory that had no origin. It was feeding — searching for a mind without a voice. A bearer without an Echo.
She was unprotected.
His fingers twitched.
If I act… she might guess.
If I don't… she won't survive.
The Phenomenon took form just behind her — jagged light, shrieking like glass breaking underwater.
She turned a second too late.
And then—he moved.
From across the stone courtyard, Eris stepped without stepping, folding through sight, guided by the Grand Gaze alone.
He appeared behind the distortion like a shadow made of clarity.
The Flare Garment expanded, threads burning blue-white with resonance. Not visible to anyone who didn't know how to look.
He did not speak. He only reached forward.
What I see is mine alone.
And what is mine cannot be stolen.
With a gesture too subtle for the eyes, the Phenomenon unraveled—shredded not by force, but by perception. Like a lie seen through, so deeply it ceased to exist.
Silence returned.
Saphine blinked, as if waking from a nightmare she never remembered.
Eris stepped back into the edge of reality. No one had seen.
Not clearly.
Back in the upper walkways, Professor Solen watched through a crystal monocle — the faintest twitch in his lip betraying surprise.
"So he moves," the professor whispered.
Saphine stared into the open courtyard, her hand clutching her chest.
Something had been there. She was sure of it.
Was it… an Echo?
Or… a person?
She turned again, scanning the area. Her eyes passed over each student, each servant, each stone.
Then they stopped—briefly—on Eris Vale, seated casually beside the fountain.
Reading.
As if he had never moved at all.
To be continued...